Hermione Has a Plan

Chapter 6

Draco and Blaise walked into Hogsmeade. They were both clad in black. Tall, angelically fair and very good-looking, the two boys attracted many looks as they went by. They accepted this as a matter of course. Draco took it for granted that people should look at him wherever he went. His good looks and stylish clothing took care of that. Part of the reason he resented Harry was because Harry attracted even more attention wherever he went, without being handsome, and without having the slightest bit of fashion sense. Of course his reasons for hating Harry were many and varied, and very few of them made any real sense. He just hated Harry for being Harry.

But today, for some reason, Draco felt uneasy, as if someone were staring at him longer than the casual homage he was used to. He turned around, but in the masses of people thronging around, he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

Soon they reached the Quidditch ground, which was a little way away from the village. It bore a festive look. The Hogsmeade Cultural Committee had really done itself proud. There were cluster balloons joining into grouped designs and separating high above in the sky. They slowly formed the words “Chudley Cannons Tryouts”, then separated and changed colour to simulate a racing broom, then all the Quidditch balls in turn, and then went back to forming the words “Chudley Cannons Tryouts”. The stands were draped in orange cloth, giving a warm orange glow to the entire area.

Draco grimaced at the orange colour. Draco’s eyes rested on the bright gold of Blaise’s hair. He turned to his friend. “Blaise, are you sure you want to try out? Can you see yourself wearing that colour? And with your hair?”

Blaise grinned. “Who knows, I might start a new fad. Come on, Draco. Don’t be such a sissy. Honestly, the way you worry about the way you look, one would think you were gay!”

Draco leered comically. “And what would that make you, my closest friend?”

Blaise made a face. “Ugh!”

They looked around silently for a bit. Draco couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him. He said quietly, “Blaise.”

“What?”

“Is someone watching us? Take a look behind me.”

Blaise casually ran his eyes over the grounds, and the woods to the North at the other end of the grounds. Then he stiffened. “There's someone in those woods.”

“Can you see who it is?”

Blaise squinted a bit. “Just a tramp. He's lying down now below that big oak.”

“Hmmm... wizard tramps are a little rare, aren't they?”

Blaise drawled, “Not in Hogsmeade. The only wizarding village in Britain gathers a lot of deadbeats. Must have come to watch the flying.”

Draco relaxed.

He would probably not have been as relaxed if he had known that the tramp's eyes were fixed on him, though with a strange wistfulness. The tramp settled down before the oak, placing his bundle behind his back and half-sitting, half-lying back. At his right hand was a flask. At his left lay a crossbow, and in a little pouch next to him were two arrows with flat, soft arrowheads. The tramp silently prayed that his aim should be true. For if not, Draco would die that day, along with the rest of them. Silently, he also prayed that Draco would not try out for the team, for a flying target is so much harder to hit.

Blaise smiled and asked, “Shall we go join the queue?”

“I've changed my mind about trying out. But I'll come with you,” said Draco.

At the Northern end of the grounds was a queue of boys and girls lined up against the wall of the official sports office of Hogsmeade, which today housed the coach, the two players, and the six helpers of the Chudley Cannons team. At the front of the queue, a slim woman in form-fitting orange robes was seated at a table, taking down names and handing out slips.

Draco looked up and down the queue. As expected, he saw Potter and Weasley in the middle of the queue, laughing at some inane joke, he supposed. He looked around for Hermione. She was sitting on the stands about 50 feet away, scanning the queue with her eyes. Draco grinned wickedly. He couldn't think of a worse way to annoy Potter than to sit with Hermione while Potter stood in the queue.

“Blaise, you go ahead. I'll watch you from the stands,” said Draco.

Blaise looked around to see what Draco was looking and saw Hermione sitting by herself on the stands, that silly wand harness on her shoulder. He couldn't understand what Draco saw in her, but knew better than to say it. The last time he had criticised Hermione to Draco, he had nearly had his head chewed off. He nodded and made his way to the end of the queue.

Draco made his way to the stand. Hermione saw him coming and smiled slightly. She didn't really like Draco, but she had to confess he was more well-read and consequently more entertaining to talk to than Harry or Ron. And right now he could be useful.

Draco sat down next to her. He smiled at her. “So your boyfriends decided to try out, hey?”

She didn't bother telling Draco that neither Ron nor Harry was a boyfriend. Instead, she smiled back pleasantly. “Aren't you going to try out, Draco? Personally, I think you'd look good in orange.”

Draco grimaced. “Perceptive, aren't you? I've decided to try out for the Ballycastle Bats. At least they wear black. Or maybe the Falmouth Falcons. I rather fancy myself in grey.”

Hermione didn't reply. She was too busy looking into an enchanted mirror in her hand, that was magically scanning the area all around. Draco looked down at the mirror. “Useful contrivance,” he said.

“Very,” she said. She zoomed in to the queue, and then to Harry and Ron. Harry was staring in the direction of the stands, frowning. Ron was talking animatedly to a girl in front of him in the queue. Hermione recognised the girl -- Matty Woodhouse, from Hufflepuff. Hermione hoped he was asking her to the Christmas Ball.

Draco looked down at the mirror in her hand and laughed rather nastily. He drawled, “You know, Hermione, the Potty doesn't seem to like my sitting with you. What say I put my arm around you and watch him spontaneously combust?”

Hermione frowned at him. “Don't you dare! There's danger enough here without your adding your perverse sense of humour to the mix. Now go away. You'll put Harry in danger.”

Draco frowned in turn. “Do you care about anything or anyone other than Potter, Granger?”

“Of course I do. I care about lots of people... and non-people too. But right now I have to focus on Harry. Surely you can understand that? You are in this too, although we are on different teams.”

“That's another thing I don't understand. What team exactly are you on? Why does Snape keep sending me to you to research stuff? Why do I keep ferrying messages to you from sundry professors?”

“Because we are the brightest students in our year, of course!”

Draco looked at her accusingly. “You're working with our eccentric headmaster, aren't you?”

Hermione smiled. “I thought you would have guessed that by now.”

“Someday I'll find out what goes on at those closed door meetings of yours, Granger. You see if I don't.”

After a minute's silence, Draco looked up hopefully. “It's not drunken orgies, is it?”

Hermione burst out laughing, a sound which carried in the open air and brought an angry look from Harry.

Draco reached out and took the mirror from Hermione. “Let me take a look. I want to see Potty's face right now.”

But what Draco saw was not Potter. It was someone else, someone who sent shivers up his spine. Beneath an oak tree lay a tramp. He was watching the stands intensely and Draco knew the tramp was looking at him. What made him shiver was the silver end of a cane protruding slightly from the bundle behind the tramp. As he watched, the tramp's hair began to turn silver, but he lifted a flask and drank from it, turning his hair black again.

Draco spoke very quietly, “My father's here.”

Hermione's expression quickly turned to one of concern, and she reached out to place her hand over his. Then, in a business-like way, she tapped a small button on the end of the mirror with her other hand. Snape's face appeared in the mirror.

She leaned forward and said briskly, “Professor, Draco's father is here.”

Snape glowered at her. “All right. That must be the source of the portkey alarm we got from somewhere in Hogsmeade. Priscilla has been trying to pinpoint the source.”

He paused and then continued, “Draco, distract him. Priscilla and I'll be there in 5 minutes.”

Hermione replied, “Professor, what if Mr Malfoy is the distraction?”

Snape sneered, “Don't worry. My team's taking care of the Chudley Cannons.”

“Thanks, Professor.”

She turned the mirror off and turned to Draco. “How do we get to him? There's open ground between here and that oak.”

Draco seemed to recollect himself. He had to admit that strangely, being with Hermione was giving him confidence. “There's just one way,” he said, “We'll have to go beyond that office building and slip into the forest behind it. And we can't do it together. You go first and stand talking with Potter at the queue, then slip past it and behind the building. He won't see you, because all those kids will be in the way.”

“And what about you?”

“I'll join Blaise in the queue and do the same. It'll be harder for me.”

Hermione asked without thinking, “Why?”

“Because I'm so much more good-looking and easier to spot,” Draco grinned.

Hermione shot him a look of mock-disgust, and got up to join Harry.

Harry looked up to see Hermione walking towards him. He was feeling furious and wanted to act cold and distant towards her, but that was impossible, because she came up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He moved his hand up to his cheek and looked at her.

“For luck,” she said. Then she slipped past him and disappeared.

Harry looked for Draco, but he had disappeared too. Harry sighed. Hermione was getting very difficult to understand. Deep down he knew that Hermione was not attracted to Draco, but then why was she acting this way? He rather hoped it was to make him jealous, but Hermione did not play such games, he thought rather naively. And yet, Hermione clearly had secrets that neither he nor Ron knew about.

Lucius Malfoy was leaning back against the tree. The whole thing was very uncomfortable. The clothes he was wearing would give him nightmares for years, and having to polyjuice himself into this thoroughly ugly fellow was giving him the creeps. His back was hurting too, he thought savagely. The things he did for his ungrateful son!

Suddenly a figure stepped out in front of him. It was the last person he expected. “Draco,” he murmured, looking up with dismay.

Draco glared down at his father.

Lucius got up and managed to speak, “Draco, you must get away from here as soon as possible!”

Draco's features hardened. He asked in a hard voice, “And why is that?”

“There's a conspiracy to blow up the grounds, and Harry Potter with it. Please, Draco, let's go,” Lucius pleaded.

Draco's eyes widened. He had never heard this note in his father's voice before. How had Lucius Malfoy changed so much? “Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

“Do you have to ask? I don't want you to die, Draco. You are my only son.”

Draco's lip curled in a sneer. “That didn't seem to matter to you before.”

Lucius took a deep breath. “I see I'll have to tell you the whole story.”

Hermione, standing behind the tree, ready to jump out if Draco was in danger, listened hard.

When Lucius spoke, it was very brief. “My Master found out about you - that you were staying with Snape's sister. He told me to kill you. I couldn't do it. So now I'm on the run from Death Eaters, but I haven't left him. I know he will take me back.”

Draco felt disgusted. Was this what he had admired for so many years? This Lucius Malfoy was neither regal nor commanding. Of course, to be quite fair, it would be difficult for anyone to look regal or commanding when they were polyjuiced into a tramp. But there was something more. Lucius had a beaten look, and a slump to his shoulders. How did this happen? Lucius had survived magnificently through all the years when Voldemort was thought to have disappeared. Why had he changed now?

But there was no time for these musings. There were two soft pops and a witch and wizard appeared behind Draco. If Draco hadn't known, he would never have guessed that they were Snape and Priscilla. The man was portly and short, and the woman thin and tall. They looked vaguely Scottish. The two stepped forward and Priscilla waved her wand. A set of ropes wound themselves around Lucius as Snape stepped forward and took the crossbow and the arrow pouch.

Lucius' face changed into one of total rage. He hissed, “So! I should have known! My own son has turned into a traitor! I should have killed you!”

Draco looked back coldly. “You'll get plenty of chances for that, Father. In the final battle, you and I will be on opposite sides.”

The witch stepped forward with something that looked like a spray can and squirted some liquid into Lucius' open mouth.

Lucius slumped as the Veritaserum hit him. Priscilla stepped forward. She asked harshly, “Tell us what you know about the plan to blow up the grounds, Malfoy.”

Lucius spoke slowly, “It's a combination of spells. An anti-snow spell combined with a timing spell.”

She continued, “How can it be taken off?”

“Take the timing spell off. It's very simple. Just say finite incantatem chrono.”

Both Priscilla and Snape looked relieved.

Snape placed his hand on Draco's shoulder. “We'll take him to St Mungo's.”

Draco nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Priscilla pulled out a small knobby stick with green glowing ends. She touched the ends to herself and Lucius simultaneously. They disappeared. Snape gave Draco a nod and walked off.

Hermione stepped forward and said, “Let's go back and see the tryouts. They should be starting now.” Draco turned and returned docilely with her to the stands. The tryouts had already begun.

The first round was the qualifier. All the candidates were arrayed at one end of the ground. It was going to be a straight race to the other end of the ground. The stragglers would be disqualified.

Hermione and Draco settled down to watch. There were about 40 youngsters in all. They all held the latest Nimbus 2000 brooms, because the Chudley Cannons didn't want any differences in brooms to skew their performance. The referee stood at one of the ground. A sonorous-enhanced voice boomed across the ground, “Up and go!”

There was a confused blur and Hermione saw, with a surge of pride, that Harry was already across the ground.

Draco sneered, “There's Potty, showing off as usual.”

But Hermione didn't hear him. She was on her feet cheering wildly and clapping.

Harry was closely followed by about 10-12 others, among whom, to her surprise, was Ron Weasley.

The first 25 to reach the end of the ground were retained, and the rest were turned away. Hermione saw, with a look of intense satisfaction, that Millicent Bulstrode was among them. She wondered idly why Fred and George hadn't tried out. In fact, Harry was the only one present from the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

The ground was cleared and she saw some wizards and witches setting up an obstacle course. Suddenly a shadow fell across her and she looked up. Snape was standing there, but the polyjuice potion hadn't worn off, so he still looked like a stranger. He looked much better this way, she thought uncharitably. They may be on the same side of the fence, but Hermione could never forgive Snape for treating Harry the way he did. He may be a professor, but he was still a greasy git.

Snape said softly, “Well, the danger's past. We've deactivated the timing spell. But we still don't know who did it. Everyone from the Chudley Cannons here is innocent. We sent some fangirls around with transfigured sneakoscopes to check.”

Draco said sadly, “It could have been my father.”

Snape nodded. “I agree. His being found here and knowing of the plan is very suspicious. He might have been trying to get back into You-know-who's good books by getting rid of Potter. But there's no proof either way.”

Hermione felt uncomfortable, as if she shouldn't be listening to this. Snape and Draco seemed to have grown quite close in the past months, with Snape acting as almost a surrogate father. Draco might want to discuss things with Snape that he wouldn't want Hermione or any other student to know.

She stood up and said, “Maybe I should leave you two alone.”

Snape looked at Draco, but Draco reached out and pulled her down again. “That's all right, Hermione. I trust you,” he said.

Hermione suddenly felt a pang of guilt. Draco had no reason to trust her. She had manipulated him into taking her to the Christmas Ball in order to spy on Zabini, his best friend. How trustworthy was that? Oh well, at least it was a cold-blooded deal -- she hadn't pretended to like Draco, had she? But that thought didn't comfort her.

She sat down again. As Snape and Draco spoke in low voices, she watched the obstacle course being set up across the ground. There were obstacles on the ground and in the air on several levels. The referee was booming out the rules of the course. The obstacles were of varying colours. The ones on the ground were red, the ones about eight feet above that were green, the ones above those were blue and the ones 30 feet above the ground were orange. The fliers had to go through the red obstacles first, then the green, then the blue and finally the orange ones. The fliers who made a mistake would find themselves physically out of the ground, and out of the tryouts.

She watched as a teenager she had never seen before, not someone from Hogwarts, started the course. As he cleared the red obstacles, the second person was sent in.

The whole scene was gorgeous, Hermione decided. Then she saw Harry moving forward to join the fliers, and going through the obstacles. He was poetry in motion, moving through the obstacles so effortlessly and smoothly that her heart melted from the pleasure of watching him.

It was over quite soon, and 15 players were left on the field. Of these, only three would be chosen for the team as finalists, and sponsored by the Chudley Cannons. Of course, they'd have to sign contracts that they would join the team on finishing their studies.

Suddenly Hermione knew something was wrong. The referee had gone over to Harry and was saying something. She saw Ron suddenly spring to Harry's side, along with a few others from Hogwarts.

Hermione almost got up to run to Harry's side, but then sat back. She turned to Draco and Snape and said despondently, “Why didn't I predict this?”

Snape quirked an eyebrow. Draco didn't understand what she was on about.

“The Chudley Cannons obviously don't think Harry is ... insurable,” Hermione said angrily.

Draco started laughing but stopped at Hermione's furious look. Hermione turned away to see Harry cross the ground and come to the stands. He climbed the wooden steps and sat down on the other side of Hermione. She took his hand in his. There was no need for words. She did not even notice that Draco and Snape had left.

Ron bounded up the steps towards them. He said angrily, as soon as he could catch his breath, “I'm pulling out.”

Harry protested, “Don't do that, Ron. You've wanted to do this for so long. And I don't blame them, really. They'd look pretty silly if they invested a lot of money in me and I didn't survive or had to leave the country.”

Ron looked mulish. “I don't care. If they won't have you, they don't need me either.”

Hermione said quietly, “Your staying out won't make them change their mind, Ron. And it's not just them. Ask any wizard insurance company how much they'll insure Harry for.”

Ron hesitated a bit, then relented, looking a bit relieved. He smiled, “All right, I'll go back.”

The next part of the tryout was straight tests in the roles the applicants had auditioned for. Ron went for Keeper and, as Harry and Hermione cheered from the stands, he saved every one of the goals. Harry was proud of his friend - he hadn't known how good Ron could be with a good broom. When the tryouts ended, Harry and Hermione went down into the ground to stand next to Ron, waiting for the results.

After 15 minutes, the Chudley Cannons coach came back and announced the results. He cleared his throat, said, “Sonorus” to make his voice boom out and then spoke, “In third place is Bernard Bole, Beater!”

There was a scattering of applause, mostly from a knot of Slytherins in a corner. Bole was on the Slytherin House team.

Another round of applause came from the same corner as the coach announced, “In second place is -- Chudley Warrington, Chaser!” Warrington was on the Slytherin team too.

“And in first place is -- Ron Weasley, Keeper!”

Ron grabbed Hermione, who was nearest, and swung her around happily, before pulling Harry into a bear hug. Then the mob hit them as every Hogwarts student there, other than the Slytherins, converged on Ron, who found himself suddenly being carried on the shoulders of four students to the exit. Ron had the biggest grin ever seen plastered on his face. Through the crowd, he spied Matty Woodhouse waving at him, and promptly blew a kiss to her. Hermione's eyebrows went up at this and her smile grew even bigger. This little crush might have a happy ending, after all.